Intaglio Dragons All The Way Down

chapter 20: The Many Lives and Secret Sorrows of Josephine B.



Ava sighed, her face pressed against Cole’s back as the sway and pull of the motorcycle set her body adrift. They were taking an early morning ride, Cole showing her different haunts of his youth. The two of them were spending the weekend with Nina and Frank. A large number of Ava’s paintings – some canvas, many unstretched – were now piled in the back of the Beast, her bags covering the passenger seat, so Cole had brought his ride as well. She loved the feel of the bike, had been considering how to buy herself one for months now. Even after paying for student loans, living expenses, and a little bit of cash tucked away for later, there would still be a few thousand dollars left over. The idea of a motorcycle had an undeniable appeal. She couldn’t wait.

This morning, she and Cole were exploring the coast, heading to an area where Hanna and Cole used to cliff dive as children. Cole laughed off the dangers, but a very real part of Ava hated that Hanna Thomas would drag her kid brother along for these kind of outings. One wrong move and she might’ve been taking this ride alone.

The thought was stuck in the no-man’s land between fury and terror.

They needed to be back in two hours, so Cole could make it to his session with Marta before a session with his father. Ava closed her eyes, letting the wind in her ears and the heat of the sun against her leather jacket lull her into a sense of calm. It was like floating, only the shift and sway of the chassis hinting that any other forces of nature were at work, so perfectly separate from everything else that Ava's heart ached. She and Cole were alone in the rush of movement; her arms curled around his chest, her thighs on either side of his.

Together.

The bike slowed, and Ava's eyelids fluttered open. Cole pulled to the side, getting ready to turn off onto a smaller road. They were almost there.

While Cole was away later, Ava was looking forward to spending a few hours alone with Nina. The two women always ended up laughing at something, talking about crazy things that Ava swore she’d never tell anyone. A very real part of her was considering sharing the nude painting of Cole with Nina (though she knew Cole would be horrified if she told him that).

Cole shifted in his seat and Ava unconsciously moved with him. She smiled as it happened: this synchronicity. While she would miss Cole this afternoon, she was proud of him for taking therapy so seriously. His small black notebook was now full of memories and thoughts. Cole shared them with her as he wrote and they’d discovered a new understanding of each other as he did.

Ava was a bit nervous, as Cole had decided to bring up his mother during today's session. Ava knew it was for the best, but she also knew there would be hell to pay for this one. Cole planned to take his bike downtown so that he could leave if he needed to.

Eyes still closed, Ava felt the jitter of gravel rising through her feet resting on the frame of the bike, up through her legs, all the way to her torso. The tang of salt air sharpened her senses. She forced herself to wait, eyelids tightly closed, wanting to have the full experience of this place.

The motor of the bike shifted down, wheels rolling to a stop.

“We’re here,” Cole called.

Her eyes opened to a sight so bright and sun-drenched it left her blinking.

They were at the top of a wide cliff, the water below like a shimmering sheet beyond the rocks, waves crashing loudly. Ava felt the back of her legs tighten as her body reacted to the height. The image of fourteen-year-old Cole cliff diving with his sister flashed through her mind and her chest tightened in dismay. But it was the water that drew and kept her gaze. Seen from above, the endless expanse rippled and moved like...

Ava shivered.

…The ripples of grass in her dream.

: : : : : : : : : :

Ava perched on a cream-coloured couch in the upstairs library, Nina nearby at the bookshelf. While the den reflected Frank’s masculine tastes, this room was definitely Nina’s domain. It had heavy oriental rugs, velvet drapes, and elegant furniture laden with multicoloured throw pillows. Nina insisted on flopping down onto chairs like they were thrift store rejects, kicking her feet up onto the narrow-legged coffee table while she read.

Ava smiled seeing it, knowing she'd have felt uncomfortable otherwise.

Right now, Nina was searching for a book, tapping her manicured fingernails on the shelf in front of her.

“I thought it was The Rose of Martinique...” she said irritably, “but that’s not right. This one was non-fiction. Something else. Hmmm...” She moved to another shelf, chattering quietly.

“Don’t worry about it,” Ava answered, glancing up from her phone. Suzanne had texted her with the updated information for their flight. They were leaving for the Caribbean – Martinique to be exact – next Friday afternoon. Their week in the sun was suddenly a reality.

“No,” Nina said, pulling out another book. “I’m sure it’s here, I just need a better filing system than by size.”

Ava grinned.

“Really, it’s no problem. I can just grab a paperback from the airport.”

Nina scoffed, raising a thin eyebrow in disdain.

“Really dear, this would be much more appropriate, given your destination.”

With a decisive nod, she stepped to the next shelf, her fingers dancing along the books. She knew them by feel as much as title.

“You know,” Nina said as she moved through the volumes, “I was thinking of throwing Cole a graduation party at the end of the year, but I wanted your opinion. I know Frank and Cole had been making strides.” She glanced back at Ava. “Honestly, they are talking for the first time I can really remember. A party might be nice... unless you think it’d be too much.”

She ran her fingers nervously along the books. Ava chuckled.

“I dunno about Frank,” she answered. “But I could ask Cole if you want.”

“Please... I would like to do something, but I don’t want him to feel obliged.” She peered over her shoulder. “Is your father going to be back for the grad ceremonies?”

Ava nodded.

“He made his itinerary last year with that in mind.” She closed her phone, and stood up, stretching. “I can’t wait for him to get back.”

Nina smiled wistfully.

“You have a good relationship with your father...” her face rippled briefly. “I don’t even know him,” she added, waggling a finger at Ava, “I can tell by listening to you.”

Ava grinned at the truth of the statement. She walked up to the shelf, hands on her hips.

“Alright, Nina,” she said. “Let’s stop pissing around. What am I looking for here?”

Nina burst into laughter.

“You know, if you and Cole have kids someday, you’ll have to learn to watch your language.”

Ava felt the blush rush up her face, but she stepped toward Nina with a veneer of indifference.

“Stop changing the subject and tell me what the hell I need to find. Title... colour... author...” Ava listed brusquely. “I want this book you keep harping about.”

Nina’s hands dropped from the shelf.

“It has a picture of Josephine on it... an old painting of her on the dust cover, on a chaise lounge, I think. She’s young in the image. A little sad…”

“Josephine who?”

Nina smiled conspiratorially.

“Why Josephine Bonaparte, dear. You are going to Martinique after all. She was born there.”

Ava laughed.

“Really? I thought she was French.”

Nina clucked.

“French by heritage, but born in the Caribbean.” She turned back to the shelf as she talked. “The author’s name starts with ‘G’… Garren… Gorum… something like that.”

Ava went through the books in sequence, searching for an image of a young woman on a couch. Nina talked as the two of them worked.

“She was born Marie-Josephe Tascher,” she explained, speaking in a warm, gossipy tone (as if Josephine was coming for dinner tonight, not some faraway figure from history). “Her father was a dandy and a wastrel, but she married up.” She laughed. “Sadly her husband wasn’t much better.”

“Napoleon?” Ava asked, pulling out another book.

“Oh no, her first husband.” Nina's voice dropped as if she was telling a scandalous secret. “You know, they say he was the author of Les Liaisons Dangereuses... though of course no one really knows for sure. It was published under the pen name of de Laclos and caused quite a scandal in its day!”

“And Josephine was from Martinique,” Ava said quietly. “Huh. Small world.”

Nina nodded.

“The book is excellent. It talks about the predictions that an old slave-woman made about her future when she was a child… that she’d wear the crown of France.”

Ava's eyes widened.

“Really? Someone predicted that?”

Nina nodded.

“When she was a badly-dowered girl from the colonies with few hopes of marrying well. It’s a very good story. Full of romance and adventure…” Nina paused, frowning. “... though the author does tend to see Josephine’s story through rose-coloured glasses.”

She stopped, fingers on her lip, eyebrows pulled together.

“Gull-something… Gullen… Gallen…” she clapped her hands in triumph. “Gulland! That’s it! The author’s name.”

“So it’s a cleaned-up story of Josephine? Like the PG version,” Ava prompted, giggling.

Nina brushed her shirt, removing imaginary flecks of dust.

“Yes, well, affairs of the heart don’t make the most wholesome heroines or the cleanest sort of adventures.”

Ava's fingers caught on a well-worn novel, spine broken, pages frayed. She pulled it out, holding her breath. There was a dark-haired woman in a long empire-waist dress on the cover. She wore a circlet on her head, the dark canvas making her pale skin glow. It reminded Ava of the paintings of Ingres... though less stilted. More informal... perhaps more like the court paintings of Vigée LeBrun. Josephine was staring to the side – ‘worried? waiting?’ – her hazel eyes wise beyond what her years suggested. The sharpness of her gaze alongside the beauty of her setting reminded Ava of Nina.

“People forget sometimes that love doesn’t always come at the most convenient moments,” Nina continued, “and that when you find love, it isn’t necessarily with the person you’re married to…” Her words became quieter, “or meant for...”

The words set the hair on Ava’s scalp crawling. Her hands tightened around the book. Her mind went back to Cole and Frank, talking right now in Marta’s office.

“...Life’s messy sometimes, and it’s the privilege of the writer to clean that up.” Nina straightened, rolling her shoulders tiredly and catching Ava’s eyes. “I, on the other hand would rather have the real story.”

Ava nodded warily.

“The whole truth, no matter who gets hurt?” she asked.

Nina paused, as if considering her words. A smile lit her face.

“Why, Ava,” she exclaimed. “You’ve found the book!”